


Welcome to Planet Nightmare

by Team_Two_Cats



Category: Goosebumps - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Two_Cats/pseuds/Team_Two_Cats
Summary: Set in a post-apocalyptic waste where all manner of monsters and mayhem lurk, Amanda is a human just trying to get by. After the mess she caused trying to save the world last time, heroics are the furthest thing from her mind. Too bad she can't help but do the right thing, even in a world gone so very wrong.





	1. Doom and Gloom

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is a weird project that connects the continuity of all of the Goosebumps books and imagines what would have happened if everything sort of hit the fan at once. Relationship stuff (and maybe smut) in later chapters, but just wanted to put this up because maybe there are other weird Goosebumps nerds out there who'd like it.

**Doom and Gloom**

Amanda limped in the direction she had last seen Petey go, the glint of its mechanical body lost in the underbrush as she used her stick for balance and support and cursed under her breath. This was the last time she trusted a slappy to give her directions, that was for sure. Just a few miles south—you can't miss it, they had said, and then peeled with laughter that was still ringing in Amanda's ears. She was too old for this.

The forest choked the day, casting everything in a gloom that didn't care that somewhere high above the sun was shining. Amanda trudged, cursing louder, then felt a breeze and her heart skipped. Pain tightened her chest and she gasped, pulling out the flask from her jacket. Shit, she really was getting to old for this. She took a large swig.  The air was a few degrees colder and dropping. The pain in her chest eased under the liquid heat of the medicine washing down her throat. At least she was in the right place.

Cradling her stick, she quickly checked its settings. To most people it probably just looked like a regular branch, about a meter of twisted wood with a strange knot in the middle and a smooth, cylindrical top. Except the knot was actually the six chambers of a weapon, and the smooth handle that she gripped when she walked was actually its barrel. She clicked the second chamber into place and the stick made a tinny whine, just barely audible.

The forest was colder still, and her breath fogged as she waited, refusing to shiver. It was darker, too, the shadows deeper, fuller. The portal had to be close.

Something burst through the brush and Amanda swiveled, aimed and—stopped her finger from pulling the trigger. Petey barked excitedly, crashing toward her. She held herself back from kicking it. The cold lingered, raised goosebumps on her arms. Nothing came.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed deeper into the woods, Petey now staying close, red eyes bright as it scanned. It pointed left with its nose and Amanda picked her way in that direction, slower now that she had to hold the stick. The trees thinned but it did nothing to increase the light. If anything it was darker than it had been a moment ago, like twilight had swiftly caught her unaware. She gripped the stick tighter and kept forward, silent.

The portal was six feet high and limned with purple energy that pulsed in neon splendor. A Shadow Door. Well, she had already figured that. What she hadn't figured on was the person standing in front of it. He didn't look like much, really. Scrawny, with baggy cargo shorts, a flannel shirt, and a khaki vest. His hair was thin and plastered damp to his forehead. She'd almost have thought him a lost tourist but for two things. One, tourism died along with much of the rest of the world during the Opening twenty years ago. And two, he was talking to a fucking vampire-ghost.

A twig snapped under her foot, and the man and the vampire-ghost both whirled to face her. She didn't react at first, too stunned by the scene—vampire-ghosts did not talk to people. At least, not unless they wanted to play with their food a bit. But the man…it looked like they were deep in conversation, as if the vampire-ghost had no intention at all of sucking out his eyeballs and feasting on his soul. Unfortunately, it didn't extend Amanda the same courtesy. It rushed her, and this time she didn't stop herself from pulling the trigger.

Light burst from the barrel of the stick, its beam hitting the vampire ghost in the chest. It howled, crumpling, and her eyes took a moment to recover from the sudden flare. She blinked and just made out the man turn fully toward her, holding something in his hands. She heard a sound much like the whine of her stick charging. Her eyes went wide, and she flung herself to the side, behind a tree, a moment before a different kind of flash illuminated he clearing.

Grunting as she landed, Amanda heard the whir of a photo being ejected. He had a fucking Doom Viewer. Great.

Everything in the area Amanda had been standing in withered before her eyes, curled up on itself as the magic science of the evil camera did its work. Amanda hissed as she rolled to a crouch behind a tree, her body protesting the rough treatment. She clicked to the fourth chamber. Standing, she lifted the stick and—saw the man enter into the portal, which disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. Her mouth fell open, her finger frozen on the trigger.

Petey's bark brought her back to reality and away from the impossibility of what had just happened. No one…went into the portals. Shit came out, yes. Nightmares. Monsters. Mummies and magic and everything that had turned the world into a giant graveyard. But no one was actually suicidal enough to just walk into an open portal. Of course, no one talked with vampire-ghosts, either. Or carried around Doom Viewers. Something was wrong.

Petey barked again and she almost yelled at it to shut up already when she saw the shadows moving toward her. Cursing, she clicked back to the second chamber and turned to leave. The portal was closed—now all she had to do was survive the trip back to Slappyville.

 


	2. A Quick Stop in Slappyville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following her completion of her mission, Amanda returns to her employer to get paid, only to walk into a...strange situation.

**A Quick Stop in Slappyville**

Slappyville sprawled like a puppet with its strings cut, a town in miniature winding around hills and trees and a single burbling river. Amanda limped to its outskirt, Petey still buzzing from where she had it tucked under her arm, its batteries drained. Damn dog.

Her leg ached from shin to hip, and the rest of her body wasn’t much better off. Where she landed avoiding the Doom Viewer would bruise, and a line across her back burned from where a vampire-ghost managed to score a hit.

She expected there to be a party of slappys there to meet her, glass eyes and wooden expressions bent by painted-on smiles. Not that she minded their absence, but something about the empty streets worried her, pulled at the part of her that always whispered _run, run and don’t look back_. It was a voice she had to fight not to listen to, because she knew it was right. At the same time, though, she knew there was no place left to run—she had tried before, after all, and failed miserably.

_Donna stands before the beast, shoulders square, skin a sheen of sweat. Twelve years old and the gun seems almost comical in her hands. At least, until she starts to fire._

Amanda shook the memory away, focused on the current problem. Slappville, absent slappys. Something was wrong. Sighing, she started walking toward the town center.

She noticed the chanting before she saw the crowd. It looked like every single resident of Slappyville had turned out in the town square, hundreds of wooden bodies creating a living wall as slappys craned necks to see what was going on. A full four feet taller than the gathered horde, Amanda had no problem taking in the scene.

The square itself was mostly cleared, and in its center was constructed what looked like a miniature guillotine, situated on a raised stage. It must have been quick work, given that she hadn’t noticed it when she came through just that morning. The sun was getting low again, but it couldn’t have been more than twelve hours—slappys were scary when motivated.

Standing on the platform were a slappy wearing a solid black hood to complement their black suit, another slappy dressed in shorts and a tee shirt, and Slappy himself, distinct because of his golden crown. Even with the ornamentation, though, it was the second slappy that stood out most—next to all the antique dresses and mini-tuxedos their clothes looked...normal. Their hair was different, too, not the solid painted black or curly clown red or long blonde of most of the slappys, but a spikey dark brown.

“What’s going on here?” Amanda asked, not loud enough to carry far but the effect was instantaneous—the chatter and chanting abruptly cut off, and hundreds of glass eyes turned to look directly at her, catching the setting sun in a kaleidoscope of ill intent. She clutched her Stick a little tighter.

“Ah, Amanda,” Slappy said from the platform, his voice clear and shrill despite the distance. “I’d say I was glad to see you but I’ve seen Creeps that looked better than your sorry mug.”

“Job’s done,” she said, pointedly not rolling her eyes at his attempts at humor.

“Then you’ll wanting to be paid,” he said, that painted smile stretching even wider.

Doing business with slappys wasn’t exactly the best idea she’d ever had, but given that Slappy did decent business for himself, selling off his minions for cheap labor to larger powers and running smuggling, brokering, and other illicit activities, Amanda figured she didn’t have much choice. She needed batteries and food, and Slappy had both, regardless of how awful he was. There were worse things out there, after all. Or that’s what Amanda told herself—she didn’t sleep worth a damn anyway.

“That’s the idea,” she said, a moment before the strange slappy on the platform began shouting.

“You have to help me!” they screamed, their voice sounding younger than she expected, less piercing...and completely terrified. “I’m a real boy! They’re going to kill me!”

Amanda’s eyebrows inched up, and she shot a look to Slappy. She had never heard of a human actually being transformed into a slappy, but that didn’t mean it was impossible.

“Ignore them,” Slappy said. “They’re just malfunctioning.”

The slappy in the hood clamped a hand over the other’s mouth.

“It your usual policy to behead...malfunctioning slappys?” she asked. She shouldn’t have, should have just accepted payment and gone on her way. But there was something about the slappy on stage, the fire in their eyes, the desperation in their voice, that seemed almost...human. And they had asked for help. Amanda sighed. It was her policy never to turn down someone asking for help, regardless of who it was.

“But of course,” Slappy said. “I wouldn’t expect a buffoon of your caliber to understand, but in civilized society there’s a little thing called blood and circuses. At least, that’s as far in the history books as I got before I dozed off.”

The square erupted in laughter as the slappys all joined their ruler in cruel merriment. Amanda flinched, but held her ground.

“Why don’t you let me take him, instead?” she asked. “He obviously doesn’t want to be here, and you obviously don’t want him here. So...”

“After I’ve gone through all the work of building the stage?” Slappy asked, gesturing to the platform and guillotine. “I think I’d prefer to watch the drama play out. But thanks for the offer.”

A slappy approached from the side, holding a bag that probably had most of what Slappy agreed to pay her. Amanda looked again at the platform, feeling the weight of her stick, the weight of Petey, the weight of the years pressing down on her, threatening to crush her. She took the bag and slipped Petey into it, then slung it over her shoulder, moving her other hand slyly from her stick into her pocket, where she found a small glass orb. Not exactly how she planned on using it, but not completely unexpected either.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Slappy said, turning back to his trembling captive.

Amanda drew the orb from her pocket and heaved it at the platform. She was hazy about the radius, but hoped it would work as advertised. Immediately she rushed forward toward it, kicking slappys out of her way, feeling a bit like one of those giant lizards she used to see destroying cities in movies. Slappy’s mouth fell open in shock and he looked ready to scream something at her when the orb struck, shattered, and every slappy in the square dropped to the ground.

Unfortunately, that meant so did the one she meant to save, and she didn’t have an extra arm as she pushed past the limp bodies of the slappys and hopped onto the stage. Without hesitating, she shoved the captive into the bag as well, and then ran as fast as she could. The null orb would knock out every magical influence in the area, but she had no idea how long the effect would last, and she did not want to be around when Slappy woke up. A voice in her head told her she should just kill Slappy, if that was even possible. To kill all of them. Again, it was a voice she had to fight to ignore, because it, too, was probably right. She’d regret this. There were much worse things than regret, though.

She ran, without a specific direction in mind, until the sun finally bled out across the horizons and the bag on her shoulder grew too heavy to keep going. Exhaustion finally caught up to her, its legs timeless and strong, and she sank down to the ground, her back to the trunk of a sturdy tree, and fell instantly to sleep. 


	3. Little Wooden Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the mess in Slappyville, Amanda gets a chance to meet Chip, who's not exactly what he seems...

**Little Wooden Boy**

Dreams came silver fast, flashes of different lives and different worlds—the same war. 

_The four of them, standing against the coming storm. Amanda watches from a distance, her place along the sidelines, the mentor seeing her work finally coming to fruition. Hope seems to bloom in the darkness, that now, finally, everyone can start to heal. And then the blood—_

Amanda opened her eyes with a gasp to find a pair of marble eyes staring into her own, just an inch in front of her face.

“Oh, you’re awake.”

“Shit!” Amanda said, jerking her head back. Pain laced the back of her skull and stars danced in her vision as her head was stopped by the solid presence of the tree she was leaning against.

Groaning, she rolled to the side, hand reaching for the Stick that seemed suddenly gone. Fucking Hells, what was she thinking, falling asleep with a slappy so close?

“Please, calm down,” the voice said again, and memories trickled back into Amanda’s throbbing head. The mob of slappys, the null orb, the flight from Slappyville.

Slowing her breathing, she pushed herself back to a sit and looked around. The bag of supplies and her Stick were a short distance away, though certainly out of arm’s reach. And between them and her stood the slappy from the stage, the one she had saved. Like an idiot.

“So was it just an act to get me to drop my guard?” she asked. “Some elaborate trap by Slappy to test my loyalty? You can tell that son of a b—”

“Look, look,” the slappy said, raising his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just...thought it would be wise to make sure when you woke up and saw me you didn’t have a weapon handy.”

Amanda glared. But okay, that was probably a smart precaution.

“We haven’t been properly introduced, and as you’re my Guide To The World Beyond Slappyville, I wanted to thank you, as well.”

Spors of darkness still danceed in in vision, and not a lot of that made much sense, but things stuck.

“Wait, guide?” she asked. “Hey, I just got you out of a bad situation. No need to make it any more complicated than that. I don’t need to know you and I don’t need you to know me. Let’s just call it even and be on our ways.”

Something like panic passed through those glass eyes and Amanda felt a pang of guilt. For a moment. Then she remembered that she had places to go, and still had no idea who that man with the Doom Viewer had been. She needed answers and she didn’t need a slappy slowing her down.

“But I’ve never been allowed outside the village,” the slappy said. “How am I supposed to survive in this brutal wilderness?”

Amanda looked around. The forest was fairly thiick but nothing like Monster Wilds. Indeed, the area around Slappyville was some of the more hospitable around. If he thought this was rough, he should see—Amanda stopped short.

“Wait, if you’re a boy who’s been transformed into a slappy, then how is it you’ve never been outside the village?”

Those glass eyes swivelled from side to side. “Well, you see...”

Amanda stood to her full height, towering over him.

“It’s not so much as I was changed as I was made with the wrong parts. I am a real boy! My name’s Chip, on account of this chip on my chin.” And sure enough, there was a small wedge missing from his chin, like the reverse of facial hair.

“But how do you kn—”

“I know I’m a boy because being a slappy never felt right! And I read a story, an old one, about a slappy who went on to become real. He found a blue fairy and was transformed, and what he felt on the inside became how he was on the outside. That’s why they were going to off me. Because Slappy thought I was a Bad Influence On The Hearts And Minds Of His Children.”

Amanda paused, considering his words, the rush of them, the desperation of them. She’d been around for a long time, and seen many things. It’s why she had believed him when he said he had been transformed in the first place. And, really, was it so much harder to believe that he knew what he was about? Just because he looked like a slappy? She sighed.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know a thing or two about not being believed. But I’m not sure I can be your guide. I’m not safe—you wouldn’t be safe, being around me.”

Chip grinned, and real boy or no it still sent a shiver down her spine when his polished teeth glinted in the light. They looked like they were made of bone.

“I don’t require a babysitter,” he said. “I might be small, but not being safe isn’t exactly new to me. What I want, what I’d like, is that we could be...friends. Or at the very least, that I could be of service, in exchange for being allowed to travel with you. I can cook and clean. I can’t carry much but I’m resourceful and might be able to get to places that you cannot. And I don’t need to sleep, so I could watch over you as you sleep. So you don’t get eaten by Daddy Plants, at least.”

Then he pointed a short distance away, to a small heap of torn foliage. Amanda gaped. The stalks weren’t large but each was toped by a flower ripe with fangs. Daddy Plants, with mouths that whispered lies and a taste for human blood. Fuck.

“Ah, yeah...” she said, running a hand through her hair. “I guess you’re pretty useful, after all. Thanks for that.”

Chip beamed. “Does this mean you’ll take me with?” he asked.

“This means I’ll let you decide. Because next to where I’m going, Daddy Plants are gonna seem like small potatoes.”

“Then I guess we’ll be eating a lot of French Fries,” Chip said.

Amanda squinted. “What the f—”

“Because of the large potatoes,” Chip quickly added. “There...will be a lot...for French...”

Amanda pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just lay off the puns, okay?” And then, slightly sadder. “I used to love French Fries.”

She shook her head. “Look,” she said, “if we’re going to be traveling together, I’d prefer not to hate you.”

“Got it!” Chip said, and bounded over to retrive her Stick. 

She accepted it gratefully, body still hurting from her tumbles yesterday, and gathered up the rest of her gear, including Petey. Chip remained silent as she took out a pack of jerky and began chewing. The sun was quickly rising, and they had a long way to go, through dangerous territory, but for the moment it was nice to just stand and enjoy the sight. 

Eventually, though, the grim reality of the day set in, and Amanda grumbled and got out a fresh set of batteries from her payment. Probably the last she’d see from Slappy, unless he had something nasty planned to pay her back for what she’d done. She laughed. What was she thinking? Of course he had something nasty planned. She slapped the batteries into Petey’s butt and smiled as he lit up again, barking at Chip and generally back to his old self.

“Hey now,” she said, still holding him, pointing him at Chip. “He’s a friend. Play nice, okay?”

Chip held out a hand for Petey to sniff and there was a moment of tension that melted the moment Amanda but the dog down and he began happily running around Chip’s legs, eager for attention. Chip still seemed alarmed, looking to Amanda for guidance, but she just shrugged.

“You’ll get used to it,” she said. She stretched, groaning as her back threatened to cramp and her knees shook. She’d kill for a bed, but that didn’t seem likely, where they were going.

As if reading her thoughts, Chip asked, “So where are we going that’s so dangerous?”

Amanda cracked a rueful smile. “Oh, just a little old lady’s house,” she said.

“Not the blue fairy, I bet.”

“No, though powerful enough, in her own way.” Memories threatened to spill out of vault were she kept them, she she kept the door shut. “And of course to get there we have to make it through the Monster Wilds...alive.”

“Sounds like a cheery place,” Chip said. “Lead the way.”

The more Amanda looked at him, the more she could see the boy beneath the wooden smile. And though a part of her knew it was a mistake to travel with someone again, there was another part of her that found it almost...comforting. Petey barked and raced ahead, and Amanda groaned and called him back, and together the three of them headed out, sure of little but that the day was probably going to get worse.


End file.
